Autumnal
by FalseEyelashes
Summary: Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Kate Austen told through three autumns.


**Autumnal**

**Disclaimer: **Not mine.  
**Word Count: **1320  
**Rating: **PG  
**Summary: **Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. Kate Austen told through three autumns.

* * *

And when you look before you leap, it's not the landing that you fear. Rather, it's that second of descent, that boundless second where there's nothing but a weightless falling from the sky.

* * *

**1984 -**

It's that perfect kind of day with the sun shining down and reflected up and off of the glossy black surface of brand-new Mary Janes. A red plaid skirt skims scraped knees and Katie Austen is photograph perfection for the first day of first grade.

She can spell her name in messy fingerpaint and even messier penmanship. She can tell time as long as it is on the hour and she can read as long as the book doesn't prove too long or the words too hard to swallow.

She can walk the broken sidewalk to the bus stop on her own.

Mom's at work and Dad's at war (or something) and Wayne is still asleep.

It is almost eight o'clock and it is almost time for school.

The start of September spells the ABCs through the cracks of the trees and the promise of arithmetic and science fairs with sharpened pencils and unfilled notebooks is about to turn the corner in the embodiment of a bright yellow school bus.

Kate has never ridden a bus before.

She waits on the corner (of Sycamore and Elm) for the crunch of gravel and the slow hum of traffic. She runs her hands, shaky, down the front of the skirt her mother laid out the night before.

There is a whistling on the air and in the bright glare of the sun she can see a boy, a little boy, marching his way down past the houses of Sycamore Road.

He is whistling and she knows the tune, and he swings his lunchbox to and fro, and she knows the song and she knows the boy that whistles it.

It's Tom. Little Tommy Brennan who was the first (and only) to own the new bike from Woody's Sporting Goods storefront window.

Kate may or may not hate him. She hasn't really decided yet. The worms didn't help his case but he did help her up when Greg Schwarz knocked her down in a high stakes game of kick-the-can.

He approaches and in a striped shirt and a deep tan he still looks like summer and she looks like the coming fall, the sliding leaves and the ringing school bell.

"Hiya, Katie."

"Hi," and behind his head she can see the bus approaching, making the slow, wide turn down the road, taking over both empty lanes and straightening out.

He follows her gaze, and asks her if she's ready for school. She kind of shrugs without quite answering and it's just like last night, Sunday night, curled up in bed and wanting to cry for no real reason other than that tomorrow was school and tomorrow was new and she didn't really know what that means.

Apparently Tom does. Apparently Tom can call her on the things she's not about to say.

"Oh, is Katie scared?" He says it kind of taunting, definitely teasing, and she feels like she has something to prove.

"I'm not scared of anything." And he smiles and it's kind of funny, funny in a not normal way. Funny in a way that makes her stomach flip flop and for a second there the butterflies are gone.

He kisses her on her cheek and stands there, that same funny smile on his face. It might be called triumphant. And slowly she comprehends it: He kissed her on the cheek. Just like her mother does and just like her father (the real one, not Wayne) does when he's in town.

"Ew!" she squeals and turns on her heel in disgust, bounding up the bus stairs in some kind of indignation.

She doesn't think she meant it and smiles and the sun closes behind her and the door swings shut and she knows he's right behind her.

* * *

**1994 -**

_"All I wanna do is have a little fun before I die, says the man to me, out of nowhere…"_

Kate drums her fingers on the steering wheel and hums along, too lazy to bother to sing along.

It's 7:30 and it's early and she left her sunglasses somewhere sometime over the languid course of the summer.

Wayne's truck makes a squeal of protest as she slows to a stop, the light shining red above her head. She's still a little surprised he let her take it to school. But it's not like he has a job to get to or anything and he probably doesn't even remember agreeing to this anyway.

Kate got her license two weeks ago. Kate turned sixteen fifteen days ago.

Homeroom starts in fifteen minutes and it kind of looks like traffic is going to be a nightmare and she's sure it's not a good sign to be late the first day of school, but it is the first day of school and the first time in three months she has had to be anywhere on time other than the pool or Jenny's house.

_"I like a good beer buzz early in the morning and Billy likes to peel the labels from his bottles of Bud…"_

She still can't believe that Tom is dating Jenny. She can't believe it but she can't act surprised.

"It's your own damn fault," she mutters into the humid summer air, still tasting of sweat and sunscreen and a kind of juvenile freedom the first day of school has no right to possess.

Another intersection and another red light. She waits her turn, people moving in and out of her mother's diner. The Laundromat unexpectedly busy so early, the drugstore showing its first signs of activity.

_"All I wanna do is have some fun, I got a feeling I'm not the only one."_

She guns the engine as the light shines green and the radio sings a little louder. Halfway clear of the intersection, and dammit, she really is going to be late, and –

The crunch of metal catches her off guard. She can feel the back of the truck fishtailing, sliding from side to side and she clutches the steering wheel, white knuckled, and Jesus, she wore her seatbelt, thank God, she wore her seatbelt.

A car horn blares and there is smoke and a sharp stop and her forehead meets the wheel with a bloody knock.

She inhales hard and pulls back slow, raises her hand to her forehead, feeling the blood ooze down her palm. There is yelling and suddenly there are people everywhere.

The light was green. The light was green. This wasn't her fault.

The yelling gets a little clearer and the radio is still playing, broken record, broken tune, and she can hear the people now and they keep saying that they're dead, that they are dead and where are the police? They are dead and now they are asking her if she's okay. And she has to tell them that she's only sixteen and it's the first day of school and she's going to miss homeroom if she doesn't hurry but they all keep yelling that the other car carries the dead, that the other car is now a hearse and hers is just the reaper's.

The light was green.

_"All I wanna do is have some fun until the sun comes up over Santa Monica Boulevard."_

* * *

**2004 -**

The seatbelt light flickers for a full second before remaining lit. It's all panicked screams and falling, falling, falling down from there. . .

She opens her eyes and can taste sand and salt, tinged with a stain of copper.

Sitting up ocean breeze tickles her hair and she clutches her wrist to her chest.

It is September. She is twenty-six. And somewhere far away (on a sunny street lined with trees, past a boulevard sharing the lanes with a waiting yellow bus) the leaves begin to fall.

* * *

**fin.**


End file.
